


Vital Force

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gratuitous Smut, Honeymoon moments, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: A gratuitous peek at an intimate moment. Chirrut feels the Force at interesting moments.





	

Baze throws Chirrut a dark-eyed look over his shoulder. “You – oh, you don’t have to–”

“Have you ever known me to do something I don’t want to do?”

“No, but–”

“Do you like it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Baze says, much too emphatically, then tries to scale it back. “But it’s – I mean–”

“There is nothing embarrassing about getting pleasure from your _husband.”_ He puts delicious emphasis on the word; it’s new to them, and they’re both still reveling in it. “Especially when…” He kisses up the back of Baze’s thighs and up one well-muscled cheek of his ass, looking so lovely and vulnerable as Baze bent over for him, on elbows and knees. “…when he loves pleasing you so much.”

The next kiss is to the base of Baze’s spine where heat is pooling so strongly that Chirrut can _feel_  it. Baze looks back at him again and the very sense of it makes Chirrut shiver even if he can’t see – the other guards his desires so carefully, even after years of his reassurances that there’s no need for it. It had taken a while for him to even assume such a prone position, with Chirrut breathing more than whispering soft assurances in his ear – _it’s only between you and I, I want you to feel good, you’re always safe in our bed_. And so he’d learned how much Baze Malbus – Guardian, warrior, strong and brave and capable – needed to be taken care of, needed Chirrut to take control, to take _him_ , sometimes.

“How do you feel, my love?” Chirrut asks softly, nipping at the soft flesh of his inner thigh. “You look beautiful like this.”

“Feels good,” He laughs. “But what do you know about how I look?”

“I _know_ ,” He insists, dragging his tongue up the cleft of his ass as he’d been doing when these half-hearted objections began. “I know you very well, don’t I?”

Baze practically whimpers in the affirmative, and Chirrut doesn’t tease him for it, this time. It’s been a stressful few days, and Baze’s need for Chirrut to untie his tense knots, in both his body and his soul, is nothing to pester him about. The other trusts him enough to bare those parts of himself that he normally shields so carefully, and Chirrut responds in kind by treating those sensitive spots as gently as he can.

“I love having you like this,” Chirrut coos; it’s true, of course, but it also comforts Baze on a deep level Chirrut can only try his best to understand. He feels for his opening with a finger first, stroking over it with a light touch that already has Baze sighing, murmuring soft requests for more, before following with his tongue. His lover – his _husband_  – groans so beautifully, as if he’s been starving for exactly this sort of attention. And he probably has been; he’s too embarrassed to ask for much of anything specific, so it moves Chirrut to try out whatever comes to mind, compiling Baze’s likes and dislikes sometimes based on shaky comments but mainly on moans and subtle shifts of his body. “My beautiful shy husband,” He sighs, breath hot against his skin. “You could have told me how much you wanted this.”

“I’m telling you now,” He responds with a faint laugh. “Please don’t stop.”

Chirrut hums in approval and swipes his tongue over him again, enthralled with the taste of clean, warm skin and the feeling of his lover’s body all but screaming for more. A playful smirk on his face, he gives Baze a firm push between the shoulder blades, sending the other into an even more vulnerable pose, unfolding off his elbows and arching his back downwards, clutching at their sheets, face pressed squarely – and with zero objection – into their pillow. Chirrut drags his hand slowly back over the curve of Baze’s spine. “I don’t wish I could see often,” He says, a smile on his lips. “But if I could have one more image, I would want it to be of you, like this.” He bites his lower lip, feeling Baze’s eyes on him as he grins. “ _Submitting_ to me.”

“Don’t make it sound so _filthy_ ,” Baze laughs, reaching back to swat at his hip.

“Nothing filthy about it,” Chirrut retorts, though the handful of Baze’s ass he squeezes in each hand makes it difficult for Baze to agree. “You like it, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Love it?”

“Love it.”

Another ticklish kiss to heated skin over the perfect combination of soft flesh and taut muscle. “And you love me?” He knows the answer – but that’s not the point in asking.

“Love you more than anything,” Baze murmurs, half-obscured by the pillow he’s hanging onto for dear life but clear to Chirrut’s ears nonetheless. “Please don’t stop, love.”

“Do you know how much I like it when you say things like that?”

“I know,” Baze laughs. “Believe me, I know.”

And Chirrut’s tongue is suddenly on him again, stealing away any further words. But Chirrut knows his lover means it – there’s nothing he could ask for that Baze wouldn’t give. Just thinking of it is a heady, heavy sensation, and Chirrut forces himself back to the present, back to pleasing his Baze, before he can get too caught up in the idea of the other’s devotion. It is, after all, a mutual obsession, and there is nothing to which Chirrut nor Baze is more dedicated. Baze gasps; he’s learned well not to hold back sounds from Chirrut. He can’t see any more, and it’s made him that much more insistent that Baze pay attention to his other senses. Not that the other didn’t do so before – but they’ve both had to make adjustments, and Baze is happy to accommodate in whatever way Chirrut needs to enjoy their intimacy the same way he did before losing his vision. But for now Chirrut is set on making sure Baze doesn’t need to think about accommodating anything – doesn’t need to _think_  about anything, and if his soft groans are any indication, he’s doing just that. He swirls his tongue around his hole and Baze presses back against him, desperate and wanting.

Chirrut just smiles in response, dimly wondering if the other can feel it – he is pressed rather close against his face, after all. He licks his own lips and plants a few warm, wet kisses over him, noting every moan, every hitch of Baze’s hips, to know where to focus his attention. He’s deeply focused on figuring out how to best dip his tongue inside him when he feels Baze reach back and bump insistently against his hand; after a moment he realizes the other is trying to pass him a tube of lubricant, and he wonders if his senses are slipping, because he never felt the other reach for it. Then again, it’s not exactly _typical_  for his hands to be so busy holding him open, or for his face to be absolutely buried in the other, so he grants himself a pass for the inattention and takes the tube without mentioning his surprise. The directness of the gesture sends a spark of heat through him, too; there’s no mistaking what Baze wants, and that in itself is far more important that whether or not he felt the other making the sly move. Chirrut slicks one finger in the viscous liquid and delicately caresses his opening, still pressing open-mouthed kisses all around it. He presses one digit gently inside, conscious of the heat, the slight resistance around him; Chirrut has been in this position enough to know it takes some time and care. He teases the taut flesh around his finger with the tip of his tongue, a rare flush coming to his cheeks at the wanton moan it pulls from Baze.

“Is it that good?” Chirrut asks.

“ _You_  are that good, and then some,” Baze purrs in reply, one hand blindly grasping at him. 

Chirrut takes it in his free hand and gives it a squeeze. “Show me next time?”

“Of _course_ , love.”

“What a good man I have…” He slowly, slowly slides his finger out and back in, releasing Baze’s hand to give his balls some attention instead. “What a good husband.”

“Your husband,” He mumbles, the half-aware voice of a man caught up in prayer or a deeply-held mantra. “All yours. Only yours.”

“All mine. I like that.” He slips in a second finger, hyper-aware of the strangled sound Baze makes, but just as much taking note of the way he pushes back against his hand. “Still feeling good, Baze?”

“Good,” He confirms, hands fisting their sheets as he wills himself to relax. “Very good, love.”

Chirrut kisses the small of his back again, then trails his lips slowly, deliberately, along his spine, pressing kisses all the way up to the nape of his neck as his fingers pump steadily in and out. “And still enjoying being all bent over for me?” He gives his hips a playful little swat. “No backaches?” It’s teasing, in part, but genuinely looking for further consent as well; it’s an intense position to be in for long, and they aren’t rushing things. Better to be sure than to push him too far.

“Very much,” He laughs softly, breathlessly, and the happy sound sends a warm ripple all through Chirrut’s body. “I like it like this.”

“I give you what you like, don’t I?” He practically purrs against Baze’s shoulder blade, groaning as his neglected erection brushes his thigh.

“You do.”

“I know, love.” Suddenly impatient, he rolls his hips forward, grinding against the cleft of his ass, both hands on Baze’s back despite the other’s faint noise of complaint at being left empty again. “Can I?”

“ _Please_.” It’s dangerously close to begging – but, Chirrut figures, he did _ask_ , after all, and it doesn’t seem fair to tease him when he’s enjoying discovering just how obeisant a pose his lover will take, just how reverent he can make his voice.

“You said you like when I beg for you,” He observes rather than badger him – even if the effect is similar. “You like begging for me too?”

Baze laughs, and Chirrut can feel the beautiful mix of happiness and lust and utter disbelief that Chirrut has picked this moment to probe his appetites. “ _Yes_ , Chirrut,” He mutters, with as much of a head-shake as someone with his face mostly buried in a pillow can muster. “Couldn’t I say the same for you?”

“That…” He slicks his own cock with the lube Baze handed him before, somehow genuinely thoughtful despite suddenly realizing just how long he’d gone untouched. “That’s a good point.”

“But…not now…”

“Not now,” Chirrut agrees with a laugh, rubbing the head of his cock against Baze’s opening. He’s not as big as Baze in any dimension, but he knows the other has no complaints, and taking a dominant role in spite of their size difference sends a sort of visceral thrill through him – something to explore with his lover another day. “Ready, love?”

“Far beyond ready, and you know it.”

Chirrut chuckles at the complete annoyance in his tone. There was something indescribably lovely about making his lover so needy, so impatient. But even better is sating that need, and with that in mind he slowly thrusts into him, giving him time to adjust and relax, hands smoothing over his lower back. “Oh, Baze,” He purrs before he even realizes he’s speaking. “You feel so good.”

Baze responds in kind – sort of – with a deep groan, a sound of satisfaction and need all at once. It’s music to Chirrut’s ears, and he thrusts a little faster at the other’s wordless urging, still slow enough to give him a chance to adjust, but hard enough to give him good reason to gasp and twist his fingers in their bedsheets again (and again, and again). Baze reaches back to coax him closer, and Chirrut feels the desperate clutch of his fingers not-quite grasping any part of him though he doesn’t see them. It’s a gesture he’s intimately familiar with, and he hoists Baze up a little, back onto his elbows, and leans over him, chest flush to his back, kissing up his shoulder and his neck as they move together again. The dragging friction between them has Chirrut’s skin on fire, and he knows Baze is no different; even if he can’t see his eyes screwed shut and lips parted in focus, he can feel how he moves against him, sense how each thrust ignites the energetic ripple in the Force that they share.

Normally he keeps his more spiritual thoughts to himself, a firm believer in the private nature of faith even when the only other who will hear is the one he’s shared that faith with for their whole lives. But this one slips out, his voice rough and reverent, seemingly in stark contrast to the carnal way he nips at Baze’s shoulder though to Chirrut the two acts of worship are one and the same. “The Force binds us,” He murmurs. “Your light and mine.”

Chirrut can’t say for sure, and knows better than to ask, whether the low moan he can feel rumbling in Baze’s chest is in direct response to his observation, but it’s satisfying to hear regardless. He bites a little harder at his shoulder, not entirely consciously, his every sense overtaken with pleasure and with _Baze_  in some essential way Chirrut can’t explain even at his most spiritual. He reaches beneath him to stroke him as he continues thrusting into him and mouthing at his neck, unsure if the combined sensation is doing more for him or for Baze or if there is even a significant difference between the two by now. “Chirrut,” Baze half-sighs, half-growls, and if there was meant to be a second part to the thought it gets lost in another low moan as he spills over Chirrut’s hand, his whole body shuddering as pleasure lights up his every nerve. Chirrut can feel it physically, of course, but the resonance in the Force is even stronger, and he sees stars – or feels them, or senses them, or they’re simply _there_  in a way he doesn’t have words for – and he sucks a blooming red mark onto the back of Baze’s neck as he comes, hips jerking erratically as the sensation washes over them both. They fall in a pleasantly exhausted heap, letting the waves of orgasm slowly carry them back to reality before untangling limbs for a more comfortable position in which to enjoy the well-earned afterglow.

“I love you,” Baze mumbles first – he’s always the first to say it, always in private, always whispered as if the words themselves are too sacred to allow outside Chirrut’s ears.

Chirrut smiles warmly, still catching his breath, and pulls Baze to his chest. “I love you too, my husband.”

“My husband,” He repeats, a hand sliding up and down Chirrut’s side. “You said the Force binds us.” He looks at him curiously as if he’s only just become cognizant enough again to have noticed it. “Does the Force speak to you when we’re together?”

“It doesn’t speak, exactly…” He touches Baze’s face, feeling the lines of his raised eyebrows, the upturned corner of his lips. “It – glows. And sings, vibrates. I can just feel it.”

“Our energy coming together?”

“We are always one,” He corrects, eyes fluttering shut. It’s a difficult sensation to describe no matter what, but being especially sated and fuzzy around the edges is making it no easier. “In the Force, we are always woven together. Sometimes I can feel it knitting together more tightly.” He touches his forehead to Baze’s. “Sometimes it comes together so strongly that it’s like armor.”

“So when you say the Force is protecting you…” He interrupts himself with a yawn. “It’s because I’m protecting you too.”

“We are one with the Force,” Chirrut agrees, holding him closer. “And one with each other.”


End file.
